Your angel
by deadone1013
Summary: An hour ago they received a picture of Cas in open coffin with strange symbol branded into his bare chest and an address. It was a cemetery. Quick check and they knew it was a binding sigil that locked his Grace and prevented him from using his powers. Of course they went right away. And of course they walked right into the trap.
1. Hear us

_Author's notes: I don't own, Yada Yada :) This is translation of one of my stories, inspired by **Came Tumbling After** by **Melfice**. Thank to **AlexHamato** for editing this story!_

* * *

The only thing Dean Winchester knew for sure was that his brother bleeding out and his blood was dripping on the cold ground. The rain was cold too, but he didn't notice. He didn't feel the cool wetness that was soaking into his clothes. Didn't feel the icy fingers of the wind. And if his senses weren't so blurred, he would know he was kneeling in the mud, like in prayer. Hiis eyes were locked at two men in front of him, unseeing. He was frozen, his mind dark and blind and trying to fight an invisible enemy, to solve an impossible task…

The demon, who was holding his brother's limp body in his suffocating grip, pressed the knife closer to the skin of his throat until it left a thin and bloody line.

"Only a handful of dirt, Dean," he sing-songed with twisted smile, "just one and I will send Sammy to the other side."

Dean swallowed, his fingers buried deep in the wet ground tightened painfully. He had to fight with all his being against the desperate urge to dig with his bare hands. The thought of standing on top of the fresh grave while underneath his friend struggled to catch his breath was unbearable.

"Tick-tock, Dean," the demon continued with his irritating tone, "it is time for you to make a choice."

His stomach clenched painfully and made him sick. His pulse was drumming at his temples and he couldn't think.

 _You need to choose._

No, he didn't have to think about it. There was another way, he just coudln't see it yet. There has to be another way.

"I am wondering how much blood your brother will have to lose before he dies?"

A thousand different scenarios crossed his mind, but none of them seemed to work. His angel blade was stabbed in the throat of a demon few feet away, but he wasn't close enough to grab it before the creature could kill his brother.

"Or for how long can an angel survive without breathing?"

The demon's words burned through Dean's tortured mind. With an effort, he pressed down the spasms in his abdomen and the nausea. There was no time to be sick.

 _You need to choose._

He needed to choose, but how could he? Sam was bleeding out above him. Cas was suffocating below him.

"He's a fighter, I have to admit it, your angel," the demon continued to spit his venom. "He took down four of us before we could bind him."

Anger bubbled in the chest of the hunter. He wanted to bury his fists in the hideous face of that damn thing, to erase the twisted smile and hit him until it left nothing but bloody mess.

"Oh, and the look Castiel's face when he saw his name on the sigil!" Dean gritted his teeth. This bastard was truly amused with the situation. "Have you ever seen fear in the eyes of an angel?"

Sam made quiet weeping sound. The wound below his ribs hurt like hell and he could barely see the blurred outline of his brother with half-closed eyes. He felt demon's cold fingers grip his throat painfully and he couldn't breathe.

The demon held him in front of his chest, one hand in the suffocating grip, the other pressed Ruby's knife at his skin. He could feel the demon's hot breath in his ear as he spoke. A bitter metallic taste filled his mouth. The taste of his own blood, he realized. His stomach turned. He could barely hear the words.

Everything went so wrong so fast, he thought.

 _An hour ago they received a picture of Cas in open coffin with strange symbol branded_ _into his bare chest and an address. It was a cemetery. Quick check and they knew it was a binding sigil that locked his Grace and prevented him from using his powers._

 _Of course they went right away. And of course they walked right into the trap._

 _Dean fought like a hurricane, his blade flying relentlessly in all directions. The demons fell and red sparks lit the morning twilight. He asked his question again and again and his wrath was growing every time he didn't get his answer. He was covered with blood and dirt. A deep wound on his shoulder soaked the sleeve of his torn jacket red. All that mattered now was to get the information he needed so desperately._

 _Then Sam screwed up_. _He got distracted for a split second and the demon stuck his knife hilt-deep_ _in his flesh. Pain exploded in his head, the world turned, his mouth filled with blood. He felt a hand grab him by the collar_ _and jerk him to his feet. He tried to fight, but his body did not listen to him._

 _The creature snapped, "How does it feel to stand on your pet's grave!? We can water it with your brother's blood, what do you say?"_

 _Dean knelt in the mud and looked at him with absent expression._

 _"Choose, Dean. Your best friend or little brother?"_

Sam's heart sank as he thought of what his brother was going through at the moment. Though injured, he was here before him and Dean knew exactly how much time was left to try to save him. But Cass was somewhere beneath his feet, under dozens of kilograms of earth and rocks. They had no idea when the demons buried him and hell, thought Sam, they did not even know whether this is the right grave.

Yet, without his mojo, Cas had no better chance to survive than any other person.

"I was there, you know, when they came to get you out of the Pit," the demon continued to talk, intoxicated of his own voice. "It's a shame you don't remember. Castiel, The Terror of Hades they used to call him. Look at him now, almost human, buried alive."

Dean swallowed hard. The thought of Cas imprisoned in a tight wooden box with air that was decreasing with each breath didn't helped him find a way out for the angel. He pushed the image in the back of his mind and tried to gather himself.

"He doesn't look so scary anymore, don't you think?" The bitter words of the demon also didn't help much, only fueled his anger. "Tick-tock, Dean. There is no time!"

"I'm gonna rip your heart off and I'm gonna stick it to your throat!" the hunter hissed through his clenched teeth, "What the hell do you want from me?"

 _You need to choose._

"I wanna see you suffer, Dean Winchester! I wanna see you squirm."

Sam felt saliva splashing at his skin while the creature growled his words with the stolen mouth of his stolen body. Sam shivered with disgust.

"I wanna watch you fall apart when you choose your brother over Castiel. Because you always will choose him." The demon's grip tightened over Sam's throat and his brother choked, trying to breath. "And most of all, I want to see you staying here on your knees while your angel is dying."

Dean bit his lower lip and tasted blood in attempt not to scream in frustration. Subconsciously, he felt the desperate urge to pray, but his conscious self knew the only one who would answer his prayer actually needed his help. However…

 _Please, Cas. Just hang on. I'm gonna get you out, I promise._

 _It is unwise to make promises you can't keep_ , he thought with Cas's voice in his head.

Moreover, thanks to the binding sigil Cas probably couldn't hear him.

"When I finish with you, you black-eyed son of a bitch, you're gonna beg me to kill you!"

Dean knew at the moment that his threats were nothing but empty, but his wrath was boiling in him. He wanted to rip the throat of the man in front of him, yet he knew this was some poor bastard the demon was wearing. He also knew that with every minute he kept talking the chances of getting out Castiel - alive - of this mess diminished progressively.

"If you want me dead, just kill me!"

His words were born from desperation; he tried to offer himself because he knew that there was no way to make this choice.

 _Liar. You know you're gonna choose Sammy. You know that if you're sitting on your ass up here while Cas dies down there, that part of you will be gone with him. You will never gonna forgive yourself for this._

"Come on!" the hunter screamed in the rain, kneeling, ready to accept his fate. "Just leave my brother and Cas alone!"

The demon smiled wilder.

"What's the fun about that?" His eyes became black. "I prefer watching you doing nothing while your angel carves into the coffin lid with his fingernails. As panic drowns him and he breathes heavily and fast, burning through his last bit of oxygen left."

Dean took a deep breath, trying to slow his heart pounding madly in his chest, as if it was trying to make a hole and jump out of it.

"You're gonna die for this, slowly and painfully. Hell will seem like a walk in the park compared to what I'll do with you!"

He had been left with only words. Nothing else. There was no choice, no help.

 _Please. Please. Please!_

He could only gaze absently at the knife, pressed to Sam's throat. Powerlessness tearing him apart from the inside. He wanted to shout but words betrayed him. Remained only was a whisper of his lips, no one heard him.

 _Please!_

The time was priceless, but it was pouring through his fingers like sand, his pulse was ticking away seconds in his chest. One after another.

"Can you see him in your head? How he is fighting for his last breath? His fingers digging desperately in his flesh, scratching the seal, trying to carve it from his chest with his bare hands?" The demon was nearly breathless, the excitement in him grew with every word. "Can you see it? Can you? Because you will see it for the rest of your life. Every night when you close your eyes. "

"You sick son of a bitch!" Dean clenched his fist until his knuckles turned white. "I'm gonna make you eat your tongue for this!"

Sam could feel the grip on his throat loosen. The demon was too busy spitting venom against his brother and had forgotten that Sam was still conscious. That's what he needed - one second without its attention. He ignored his grief and grabbed the wrist of the hand that held the knife. Pain screamed in his head at the sudden movement, but he tried to suppress it. With his peripheral vision he saw Dean started to get up to help him.

"No, Dean! I got him!" Sam tried to scream, but what came out of his mouth was a hoarse moan. "Find Cas!"

However, he had to turn back to his opponent, who used his free hand to thrust his fist into the wound of Sam's belly. Sam screamed and agony spilled waves all over of his body. He curled into himself, trying to fight the feelin and struggling not to faint. He saw his brother, half upright, hesitant.

"Dean!" the youngest Winchester croaked. His mouth was full of blood. "Go!"

The demon's hand tightened on the fabric of his jacket's collar and straightened him forcibly to his feet. Even with blurred vision, Sam saw that in the confusion the knife flew away. Too far to be reached by any of them. He clenched his fist and swung. He put all his strength into this single blow. The pain screamed again when his fingers met the jaw of the stolen body and when it fell without sound on the earth, Sam lost his balance and fell on top of it.

Hands of the creature thrashed in panic, trying to grab his throat, but the hunter pinned them above his head and pressed his knee into the demon's chest. Adrenaline screamed in his ears, he wouldn't last long in this position; his belly clenched in pain, drops of cold sweat crawled on his forehead. He hesitated only for a moment. The knife was away, there was no way to let the demon out. He glanced briefly at his brother, who had pulled a small foldable shovel from the trunk. Then he was digging.

The creature was tossing under his weight. There was only one chance.

 _"Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii,"_ his voice was hoarse and weak, but it was enough _,"omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica ..."_

The demon convulsed beneath him. Sam took a deep breath, the world spun before his eyes, but he fought the nausea and continued.

 _"Ergo draco maledicte et omnis legio diabolica adjuramus te._ " The demon's body trembled beneath him _."Cessa decipere humanas creaturas, eisque aeternae Perditionis venenum propinare."_

Dean heard the voice of his brother, deaf and distant, as if on the other side of a long, dark tunnel. His mind registered the fact that Sammy had pinned the demon to the ground and was trying to knock the bastard back to hell. Part of him wanted to throw the shovel and tear the demon to pieces with his own hands. His mind had nothing to do with what he was doing at the moment. His hands moved alone, eagerly dredged through the soil without the need to invest in the action of his absent thoughts.

 _Please, Cas. Please!_

The words echoed in his head, not sure what exactly was praying for. Perhaps not to be too late? Maybe he was asking that whatever he pulled out from the grave wouldn't be the breathless, limp body of his only friend. Or he prayed the demon didn't lie and that this was the right grave? How wrong those words sounded in his mind. How wrong it sounded. How much like some crazy nightmare that he would wake upfrom any moment, shaking and sweating. Or maybe it was like one of those dreams in which, as quick you moved, it was not enough. Where everything was in slow motion. The muscles hurt almost physically from the effort, but you couldn't made even a single move.

" _Vade, Satana, inventor et magister omnis fallacies, hostis humanae salutis."_ He still heard the distant voice of his brother. " _Humiliare sub potenti manu dei, contremisce et effuge, invocato a nobis sancto et terribili nomine, quem inferi tremunt ..."_

Dean continued to dig, raindrops running down his face like tears. The water came into his eyes and blurred his vision. He nervously wiped them away as he forgot that a few minutes ago his fingers were buried into the ground. His hand left mud trail down his face, but it didn't matter.

For what he was doing he didn't need his eyes. He'd done it a million times. Dean Winchester was digging graves all his conscious life.

" _Ab insidiis diaboli, libera nos, Domine._ " Sam was talking, the demon was screaming underneath at some weird language. " _Ergo draco maledicte et omnis legio diabolica adjuramus te…"_

The tip of the shovel hit something hard and hunter's heart skipped a beat. He dropped on his knees and dug the dirt with his fingers, trembling from the cold and the pressure. His hands felt boards of the wooden coffin.

"Cas?" In his hesitant tone flickered a glimmer of hope while he was cleaning the lid.

He was using the shovel as a lever and putting the full weight of his tired body down on the handle. He heard a creaking sound when steel nails were pulled from their seats.

 _"Cessa decipere humanas creaturas, risque aeternae Perdition's venenum propionate,"_ Sam was nearly over and the demon was screaming threats.

The smell hit him in the face and burned his nostrils. Crazy bastards, was his first thought, they buried him with fucking rotting corpse!

Because the other option... it was unthinkable, impossible, unbearable.

" _Ut Ecclesiam tuam secura tibi facias libertate servire te rogamus…_ " Sam was at the end of his strength, he could hear it in the drop out of his brother's voice.

The lid open with one long cry and Dean's breath froze in his throat.

"Sammy!" The shout merged with demon's laughter. _"Don't!"_

 _"... audi nos_!" Sam finished in time.

 _Hear us, Lord!_

The man coughed painfully. The ground beneath the demon-free body absorbed the thick black smoke with a hiss. The grass smoldered, despite the fine drops of rain. His eyes were shut; his body slumped under numbed fingers of the young Winchester. Sam rolled past the lifeless body and sat down, his eyes fixed on deadly expression of his brother's face, uncomprehending.

"It's not him, Sammy." The words barely broke off from Dean's white lips. _"It's not him."_


	2. Stay calm!

_Author's note: Hello! Yes, I know. It took me long enough. This is probably set somewhere in season 6, but after Sam got his soul back. I know it is not perfectly canon._  
 _Anyways, I want to take a moment to say "Thank you!" to **RebAngel67** for helping me. If you like some steamy Destiel with all the right feels and adorable hints of humor , you can check her first story._

* * *

Castiel needed some time to realize that what he felt was actually pain. But it was not about the pale, dull sensation that something in his vessel required to be healed. With that one he was used to. But the intensity this time was much stronger. The pain was screaming inside his head and any thought had left in the background. For the first time in a very long time he had this overwhelming feeling and it could only mean one thing.

Cas tried to remember anything from the past hours. Or days? He could not say for sure. But nothing came back.

Then the angel tried to reach his grace, but he couldn't feel it. He knew it was inside him, but as much as he tried ...Nothing happened.

He also knew that his eyes were open, but only darkness surrounded him. Tentatively, he moved his fingers. Stretched out hands and carefully felt around. His palms met a barrier and he followed it as far as he could. It felt like wood, a few splinters hurt his fingertips and he exhaled loudly.

He was lying on his back in a narrow wooden box, the angel realized. The lid was only a few inches above his face and he could barely shift his stiffened limbs.

A sinister insight crept into his mind as the memories rushed through his head. With each one his anxiety grew. He tried to calm his breathing. His heart was pounding wildly in his chest and tiny drops of sweat dripped down his face.

The demons. Castiel remembered the demons.

He had been ambushed. They attacked him in a group. He struggled, but he was outnumbered and they were prepared. He knocked down three or four of them when the others dragged him down to the ground. He resisted, kicking and trying to break free from their grasp. Then he saw it.

The meat suit was a tall, burly male but he could see the creature inside him. His black-tainted soul bore the imprint of Hell. In his hand he held an iron rye with a glowing red symbol on the opposite side.

One of the demons that held Castiel ripped his shirt open.

"Stay still, little angel," the demon croaked.

He pushed the reddened metal inches from Castiel's face, giving him the opportunity to examine it.

The circular binding symbol was clearly visible, but there was something else. It was a name, Cas realized. His name, written in Enochian was included in the sigil. That not only would lock him inside the vessel, but also it would bind his Grace and prevent him from using his powers.

Angel's eyes widened in surprise and undisguised horror.

"I want to hear you scream," the demon said.

The red-hot iron hit the bare skin of his chest with a hiss and stench of burning flesh and he screamed.

* * *

The big man was still lying on the wet grass, unconscious.

Sam stared in disbelief at his brother's deathly-pale face. His brain was already significantly blurred by pain and blood loss. He refused to accept Dean's words.

"It's not him, " Dean echoed.

The raindrops ran down his face, leaving traces in the prints of his dirty fingers. Sam was not sure to what extent it was actually just the rain. The blood from Dean's wounded arm soaked the sleeve of his shirt and his jacket and slowly dripped to the ground. For a long moment Dean stared blankly at the former meat suit.

Then he jumped out of the hole that had dug up and pounced on him with all the rage that could fit into his clenched fists. The hunter grabbed him by the collar with one hand and dragged him half upright. The knuckles of his other hand crashed into former demon's nose with a sickening sound of smashed flesh and broken bones.

"Dean!" Sam's hand reached out and caught the end of his jacket, "You'll kill him!" But Dean tore his brother's weak grip effortlessly and continued to hit the limp body.

* * *

Blinded by rage, Dean was slamming his silent fury on the man.

He knew it was just a shell. The demon was gone. What he was hurting right now was simply a man who probably suffered for months, imprisoned in his body and tortured by the monster. But he didn't care. Someone had to pay for Cas, someone had to be hurt, someone had to suffer. Dean needed to hit, he needed to get all this rage out of his system.

"Dean, stop," Sam cried again, "we can use him! He can remember where they took Cas!"

Something in Dean's mind flashed and he made the connection. He understood what his brother was trying to tell him.

When Heaven ripped Castiel out from his vessel in order to "re-educate" him and make him obedient soldier again, they had realized that Jimmy had fragmented memories of the time spent as a vessel. Also when Bobby was possessed by a demon, he remembered everything. Sam remembered the time spent with Meg in his body. It was a shot in the dark, but it was their only hope for now.

The hunter's hand froze in the air for a moment, and then sank down resignedly.

* * *

Castiel pressed his palms against the lid above his head. He pushed with all the strength that remained in his numb body. The coffin wasn't wide enough for him to be able to fold his knees so that could gain the necessary support to lift the lid. The wood didn't give in even an inch. Cas had to lay motionless for a moment. His eyes stared into the darkness, trying to distinguish anything. He could feel the panic; it stretched its cold fingers to grab him by the throat.

 _Coffin. It was a coffin._

He tried to think clearly, but the thoughts just slammed messy inside his head. Coffin. He felt sick. This could mean only one thing.

 _Buried alive._

He felt the incoming waves of the panic attack. His pulse pounded deafeningly in his temples. His hands still pushed the lid with all his strength, covered in sweat. He could feel the heaviness in his chest, like something was pushing him down. His breathing was fast and ragged because of the lack of oxygen.

 _He needed to calm himself. He needed to think._

The muscles of his arms ached from the effort. He closed his eyes in the dark and pressed them with his palms in a desperate attempt to calm down and slow his breathing. If only he could use his grace... The angel took a deep breath, his chest hurt from the lack of oxygen. The heavy air burned his lungs. He choked back a painful sound.

 _Do not panic!_

* * *

"Hey!" Dean held the body in a sitting position with one hand by the collar and with other hit him heavily in the face "Hey, wake up!"

"Dean!"

He ignored Sam's desperate attempts to make him be more careful with the man. This was no time to be nice; his body was on autopilot. Dean's palm inflicted steady, measured blows mindlessly.

One step at a time. First of all, he had to make sure that the former vessel was conscious. At least enough to be able to tell them where Cas was. Or tell them anything at all.

The rain had stopped, nothing moved around.

It was quiet.

 _The silence._

Dean realized that something was wrong with Sam only when he stopped hearing his brother's constant bitching to take it easy with the former meat suit.

"No, no, no! _Sammy!_ " Dean dropped the body with a thud back to the ground. The sound echoed through the empty cemetery louder than it should have.

Dean fell to his knees beside his brother's motionless body. Sam's hand was still pressed against the wound on his abdomen, but his eyes were closed and his face pale. Trembling, the hunter reached out to check for a pulse. Sam's skin was ice cold, but Dean felt the slow steady beat under his fingers and exhaled in relief.

But the relief didn't remain in his mind for more than a second. Sam was in shock. He had to do something. And he had to do it fast.

Dean cursed out loud. So he had to choose after all. He could take his brother and drive him to the hospital. But it meant to abandon Cas.

 _You're not even sure the damn angel is alive_ ; a little voice crept in his head. _But Sammy still has a chance. Not for long, though._

 _You have to make a choice._

"Damn it!" Dean cursed again.

"Watch your mouth, Squirrel." Crowley's voice startled him. He hadn't felt when the demon appeared behind his back.

Dean turned to face the King, concealing Sam with his body.

"You!" the hunter hissed, "If you even try to touch him..."

"Yes, yes," Crowley waved his hand absently, "you will kill me, etcetera. I know. This is getting ridiculous, you know."

Dean licked his dry lips. "If you're not here to finish your minions' work, then what the hell do you want?"

"Well, what can I say? To catch up," the demon replied casually, "What's going on with you these days?"

"Go to hell, Crowley!" Dean clenched his teeth. "I have no time for your bullshit."

He tried to lift his brother's lifeless body so he could put Sammy's head in his lap.

"Hmm," the demon pouted with a mocked concern, "I thought you would be more responsive, considering I'm here to help ..."

"Helping?" Dean gave him a quick, incredulous look and then put his hand on his brother's burning forehead. "Your minions did this. Don't you fucking tell me that you have nothing to do with it!"

"Well, "The King seemed almost embarrassed, "Things are not so ...perfect in Hell lately. Reluctantly, I must admit I'm losing my grip."

He took a few aimless steps around the brothers, trying not to stain his shoes in the mud.

"There are ... so to speak, in some circles ..." He stroked his suit. "Let's just say you did me a favor by sending these traitors where they belong. I have special plans for this one." He nodded toward the tall man's body, lying on the ground beside Sam.

"You wanna help?" Dean asked hesitantly, "Really? No tricks? No deals?"

"If that make you happy." The demon rolled his eyes. "Well," he shrugged. "Okay, maybe I'm getting softer?"

"I don't trust you, Crowley..."

"Yes," the demon cut him off, "You hurt my feelings. Let's get to the matter at hand, shall we?

"Can you fix Sam?" Dean looked at his brother, eyes pinched with worry. "Or find Cas?"

Crowley approached the unconscious man and put a hand on his forehead. A second later the King stood. "Your pet is buried in the northwestern corner of the cemetery, near the chapel." He frowned. "Moose would understand the Stephen King reference... Too bad. You have to hurry if you want to dig Castiel out alive. He doesn't have much time."

Dean struggled with the urge to get on his feet and run to the place, where the demon had pointed. He rubbed his fingers through his hair without moving an inch.

"Yes, I get it," Crowley shook his head, "Tough choice, huh? The blue-eyed lover boy or the brother. Which one will be?"

"Fuck you, Crowley!" Dean said absently.

"You're hopeless," the Hell King sighed, "Go. Save your angel. Moose and I will take a walk to the nearby hospital. I'll text you the address."

If you try anything..." Dean clenched his fists. The internal struggle was clearly written on his face. He didn't try to hide it.

"Blah-blah-blah... " The demon leaned over Sam and put a hand on younger Winchester's shoulder. "The tombstone says Erich Weiss. Hurry, " he said and disappeared along with Sam before Dean could even react.

Dean was staring into the empty space for a fraction of a second.

Then he began to run.

* * *

 _Stay calm._

Castiel closed his eyes and tried to relax his stiff limbs. His breathing was sharp and ragged. Either because of lack of oxygen or because of the panic, he didn't know.

 _Stay calm!_

His body would not listen. Panic was all-consuming. Inside him and around him. In his mind there was nothing else. He fought with all his strength against the urge to pound and kick the lid of his wooden prison. And to scream.

The feeling was so vivid that he could swear that someone was really screaming in his ears. Someone was pounding on the coffin lid. A remote part of his mind knew that what he was hearing was his own voice. But the rest of him just could not acknowledge it.

When hours (or minutes?) later the exhaustion swept over the angel like a wave, he stopped fighting and sank down into the darkness.

* * *

The dirt was wet and heavy. Nothing was happening fast enough. His movements were in slow motion once again. Like he was standing aside and watching himself at some old, black and white shredded tape. The muscles in his arms screamed in tension.

The shovel hit a hard surface and Dean dropped to his knees, burying his fingers into the wet soil. The symbols on the coffin were clearly distinguishable. He recognized the signs of the enochian binding magic.

The hunter stood up and swung with all his remaining strength, praying that it could be enough to break the boards. But not enough to hurt the body underneath them.

The wood creaked and the metal sank an inch, breaking one of the sigils. Dean swung again. His mind was working on autopilot. Enraged, his pulse was pounding loudly in his ears.

He felt sick.

One blink later and he was down on his knees again, hands buried in the hole of the lid. Planks were protruding outward like bony hands from a fresh grave. Hysterical laughter rose with an ugly gurgling sound in Dean Winchester's throat. The metaphor that his mind tossed so persistently made his stomach turn.

The body was limp and heavy in his hands. Heavier than he assumed a man in a torn brown trench coat should be. How much do the angels weigh, the question pressed painfully in his skull.

 _"My true form is with the size of the Chrysler Building,"_ came the echo of Castiel's words from a couple of days ago, loud in the silence inside Dean's head.

Trembling, his fingers frantically sought for a pulse.

"Damn it!" Dean muttered through his clenched teeth. Maybe the angel shouldn't have a pulse... _"Damn it, Cas!"_


End file.
